Today.
I get on a plane and start the trip back to Judah.
Oh. my. word.
This sort of elicits three appropriate responses that occur in the following order:
1. "Holla!"
This is the pure joy, excitement, nervous energy, long-awaited reality coming to be. It makes you smile. You swoon at Nugget's picture. You sniff those little diapers and stack those neatly folded baby outfits. Giving baby a bath and putting him in his jammies washed in that special baby detergent sounds fun. Nugget is going to smile and laugh and attach to you and think you are the best thing that ever came along. You envision rocking and cuddling and sleeping through the night. I repeat....sleeping through the night. It feels like the world is aligned. God is blessing. Life is good. I can't wait.
2. "Oh, crap!"
This is the reality component that interferes with the above dream world. It is the experience of mothering taking hold of your thoughts and slowly reminding you of all the unpleasantries of life with baby. The lugging of the diaper bag and car seat through parking lots, the puking on your clothes, the inability to shower, the stack of laundry, the night feedings. The understanding that life is going to be....uh.....different for a while. The realization of all the things you were going to get done before this trip but didn't. And in my case that longer than long, long flight home. And this time, Baby better like Daddy. I remember laying in bed on our Eden trip and thinking, "What are we doing? We have lost our minds."
3. "Say what?!?"
I've kind of been through this adoption thing a time or three and every time it never feels remotely normal. I am getting on a plane. I am crossing the world. I am swinging on by an orphanage in the afternoon. I'm sitting through a coffee ceremony that has nothing to do with adoption or babies. I pick up Nugget. We hug everyone goodbye. And then Nugget is now coming to live with me. FOREVER. No matter how excited or scared or whatever the emotions...this just always seems a little, little, little bit unusual to me. And kind of amazing, too.
As is then waking up at home to strange baby in...your....living room. Totally not weird. Baby from the picture is now 3-D baby sitting on the couch with your other kids.
And the great news is that I have completed the following list of essentials in preparation for a new baby over the last three days. New moms, you may want to take notes.
So, whatever. The bags are 90% packed. The plane tickets are secured. The kids are going to hang with the grandmas for a few days. It will all be O.K.
It will all be O.K.
Because on Saturday, after 24 hours of travel, I will walk out of our concourse to my kids waiting for their new brother. And they will be beaming. And I will be beaming. And Judah will be home.
And I'm pretty sure he won't care about the pantry and I'd even wager some cash that he won't get lost in the grass.
We're on our way....
I get on a plane and start the trip back to Judah.
Oh. my. word.
This sort of elicits three appropriate responses that occur in the following order:
1. "Holla!"
This is the pure joy, excitement, nervous energy, long-awaited reality coming to be. It makes you smile. You swoon at Nugget's picture. You sniff those little diapers and stack those neatly folded baby outfits. Giving baby a bath and putting him in his jammies washed in that special baby detergent sounds fun. Nugget is going to smile and laugh and attach to you and think you are the best thing that ever came along. You envision rocking and cuddling and sleeping through the night. I repeat....sleeping through the night. It feels like the world is aligned. God is blessing. Life is good. I can't wait.
2. "Oh, crap!"
This is the reality component that interferes with the above dream world. It is the experience of mothering taking hold of your thoughts and slowly reminding you of all the unpleasantries of life with baby. The lugging of the diaper bag and car seat through parking lots, the puking on your clothes, the inability to shower, the stack of laundry, the night feedings. The understanding that life is going to be....uh.....different for a while. The realization of all the things you were going to get done before this trip but didn't. And in my case that longer than long, long flight home. And this time, Baby better like Daddy. I remember laying in bed on our Eden trip and thinking, "What are we doing? We have lost our minds."
3. "Say what?!?"
I've kind of been through this adoption thing a time or three and every time it never feels remotely normal. I am getting on a plane. I am crossing the world. I am swinging on by an orphanage in the afternoon. I'm sitting through a coffee ceremony that has nothing to do with adoption or babies. I pick up Nugget. We hug everyone goodbye. And then Nugget is now coming to live with me. FOREVER. No matter how excited or scared or whatever the emotions...this just always seems a little, little, little bit unusual to me. And kind of amazing, too.
As is then waking up at home to strange baby in...your....living room. Totally not weird. Baby from the picture is now 3-D baby sitting on the couch with your other kids.
And the great news is that I have completed the following list of essentials in preparation for a new baby over the last three days. New moms, you may want to take notes.
- swept garage and organized the jumble of plastic cars, bikes, scooters, bubble wands, sticks/swords, golf balls, and socks. Don't ask.
- oil changed in the car....wiped down seats, vacuumed floors
- stripped all pink things from Nugget's room and replaced them with animal printy things and new crib sheet. I don't know why I feel Ethiopian babies can pull of animal prints, but they just can.
- organized the pantry
- had a fun session with the weed eater
- located saved boy clothes to discover none would actually fit
- made 4 trips to the grocery store in one week for....groceries.
- chosen grout color and new garage doors
- given three members of our family haircuts
So, whatever. The bags are 90% packed. The plane tickets are secured. The kids are going to hang with the grandmas for a few days. It will all be O.K.
It will all be O.K.
Because on Saturday, after 24 hours of travel, I will walk out of our concourse to my kids waiting for their new brother. And they will be beaming. And I will be beaming. And Judah will be home.
And I'm pretty sure he won't care about the pantry and I'd even wager some cash that he won't get lost in the grass.
We're on our way....
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